What Is It About Her?
by loveoverpride
Summary: He saw her and could not resist. Somehow, his draw pulls her as well. AU.
1. Chapter 1

There she was.

Moving down the hall with a purpose. Heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Taking no prisoners as she passed others, with her gaze straight forward.

As she turned the corner towards the classroom, he was leaning against the wall. Foot propped up, with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. Looking like he was just shooting the breeze, waiting for class to start. But he had something better in mind. Before she crossed the threshold, he got her attention.

"Here."

"What? Excuse me?"

He gestures towards the styrofoam container in his possession. "I thought you might need this."

Offering a tight-lipped grin, the woman accepted with extreme hesitance. Gingerly tipping the cup, the hot liquid seeped through her lips, surprisingly giving her the boost she needed for this 9:30am lecture. Rich caffeinated gold, as well as a pinch of sugar and milk were mixed together to make a heated combination down her throat. It felt so divine, the experience prompted her to sigh audibly. Obviously blowing her emotionally distant cover. The one that almost denied him of this opportunity.

"You like that?"

Abruptly turning towards him, she replied with disdain, "Of course. It's coffee."

"I thought you would appreciate it, given the circumstances," he answered, eyes sparkling. When she didn't respond, he continued.

"I'm Brayden."

"Hello, Brayden," she confirmed as a frown appeared, but intrigue had glossed over her tone. She eyed the person in front of her, so close to her, she could feel his breath.

"Nice to meet you on such an unique occasion. Do you go here?"

He cracked a smile after hearing the shady comments. "No, I just roam the halls, looking for beautiful women like yourself to talk to."

After seeing her frown even more, he burst out into laughter as he crossed his arms. Leaning forward, he replied, "Of course I go here. We're in the same class. Keating."

"Really? I've never seen you," she answered. Her eyes wandered around, looking for others who were starting to enter the lecture hall. There was an air about her - very privileged.

Two can play that game.

"Well, that's because it's only the second class," he confidently replied. "I think I sit behind you or something like that."

"Ahh. Ok."

Her smile was so big and wide, it was fake.

"I've never gotten your first name. Miss -"

"Isabella."

The manner in which she rushed her introduction amused him. Very cold and plaintive. A bit secretive.

"Nice to meet you, Isabella."

Hearing the distinctive voice of the professor, the young lady raced towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To class. Professor is coming. I won't be counted as tardy. Thanks...for the coffee."

"Right."

He gave a knowing nod before getting closer to her once more.

"I hope to see you around. Sooner rather than later."

The look on her face - shock - as he gave off a sneaky smile, that was just as bright as hers. Her long eyelashes slowly fluttered. Then in a moment's notice, she straightened up and turned.

Rubbing his bearded jaw, he watched her leave. Still moving with an ultimate power, her hips shifting back and forth. She was incredibly sexy; black hair that passed her shoulders, smooth chocolate skin that glowed. She smelled like Heaven and dressed like the girl next door. On their first day of class, two days earlier, he knew he had to talk to her. With her lofty demeanor and tenacious attitude, she appeared to be out of reach.

Just like him.

He had to get to know her.


	2. Chapter 2

The lecture was right on point, stimulating, and entertaining. Professor Keating called upon those who raised hands and stood to declare their opinions, state facts, and making appeals to be in her good graces. He thought everyone in the room was beneath him. Some displayed false confidence, only to shiver in her presence. Others were clueless. Dumbasses, he smirked.

He almost fell dozed off when the students gave responses. But then she stood.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. I'm Michaela Pratt..."

Huh, he thought. Why did she introduce herself with a different name? What was she trying to hide? Of course, any excuses she could have found was completely different from his reasons for not giving his real name.

The subject matter didn't concern him at the moment. Just her. She was beauty in human form. As he assumed, she pounced on the opportunity to reveal the knowledge she had and shame her fellow classmates. If that wasn't sexy, nothing was.

"Mr. Walsh, what do you think of the matter?"

Hearing the Professor's commanding request, he confidently rose. "I think it's in every right of the defense to find all avenues of innocence."

When he had finished, he found the face of whom he wanted to impress, or tease. Her face fell slightly as he met her gaze. She was going to realize that he was supposed to be here.

"Looks like we have a debate team in here."

Professor Keating walked from the chalkboard to the front of her desk. "I am looking for individuals to join my firm. If you're the best, think outside the box, and believe you can handle it, I'll bring you on. But only the best. Class dismissed."

"Hey!"

Weaving through the crowd, he paced next to her, as she was exiting.

"Hey, Isabella or Michaela or Susan," he greeted with a sarcastic bite. "Why did you lie to me about your name?"

Fiddling with the huge strap of her green purse, she bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't know. I couldn't tell if you were a creep or something."

"But I'm not," he lifted his right hand, as if on oath.

"Okay."

"What is your name?"

"Michaela."

"Well, Michaela," he started, "I think we should work together, so we can, ya know, be on Professor Keating's good side. Possibly make it all the way to her firm."

Michaela raised her eyebrows, while looking up and down. As if to find any truth behind his apparent bullshit.

"No. I don't know you like that. Besides you could use all the information I accumulate and then run with it."

"I think you'll want to and I'm pretty fair," he said, but then showed an upturned lip giving away to a full-blown smirk. "For those I like."

"Who in the world do you think you are?"

Placing his hand against the wall, he leaned in and roughly whispered in her ear.

"I'll be whoever you want me to be."

He waited for Michaela's response.

"Right now, I'd like you to clear a path so I can leave," she demanded. Brown eyes aflame with frustration. He enjoyed that.

Taking a step to the right, he conceded, shrugging his shoulders. "Okay, I like a challenge, Miss Whoever-You-Are Pratt," he offered. "But here. How about we catch up over drinks?"

Michaela snarled at the piece of paper that was given to her. It had numbers on it. "Is this your phone number? Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe. It's up to you. 7:15 at the pub around the corner."

"Go to hell."

He threw back his head in laughter, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Have a great day, Michaela Pratt."

He decided to go first, leaving her in disbelief. She'd be at the bar.

Let the countdown begin.


	3. Chapter 3

Their paths never crossed until now. She didn't notice him until the moment he interrupted her path to class. The borderline stalker vibe was seriously freaking her out. How was she that oblivious? Why should she give him the time of day and who was he to slink so low and come to her like that?

Her plan was simple - be the head of the class and now, earn a spot at Professor Keating's firm.

Everything had to go right. No room for errors.

No one was going to ruin her game plan.

But this was not right.

Michaela Pratt could get him out of her head.

The classroom banter was turning him into competition. She didn't want to fall to second place. He just looked like bad news. Cocky to the extreme, painfully sly. But something about him was unusually appealing. As much as she liked attention, why him? And why her? There were fifty other students in the room. He probably wanted a quickie or get her to divulge on the case they were assigned to. He could've pinpointed someone else.

Maybe he wanted to get an edge, find an ally. She couldn't find any other excuses to not go. So….there she was. In a less-than-popular bar, with bright lights, walking distance from campus. There were just enough people around, so that if anything were to happen, someone would notice.

Sighing deeply, Michaela watched her surroundings, hoping to God he wouldn't sneak up on her. Surprises were not her thing. Like the note in her hand. That wasn't expected. Michaela reviewed the paper he gave her earlier, tapping the digits onto her phone. He wasn't late but she contemplated "touching base", so she could try to ditch.

"Hey."

Michaela's eyes popped open as she heard the greeting. There he was, in a black sweater, slacks, with an amazing smile.

"Hi. You arrived."

"Of course," he answered, sliding into the booth across from her. "I'm very satisfied that you're here as well. I thought you were going to ditch me."

As if he knew what she was thinking. "No. That wouldn't be a good thing."

"How are you?"

"Fine," she promptly said.

Michaela watched as he waved down the server.

"Hey, I'll have a whiskey on the rocks."

Turning towards Michaela, he asked, "Would you like anything?"

She answered the server, "Water."

"Oh, c'mon. I wouldn't have invited you to a bar, if I knew you were only to drink water," he taunted.

"I only drink with people I'm comfortable with," she declared, straightening her back. "Water, please."

A smile gradually appeared. "Well, here's your fine opportunity to get to know me. Ask me a question."

Taking a moment to evaluate the situation, Michaela relented. "Alright. Why are you here?"

"To talk to you."

Quickly raising her hand, she sternly spoke, "No. Why are you at Middleton?"

"Professional, I see. Well," he started, taking a sip of his drink. "I want to become a lawyer. Be the best. Kick ass. Make money. You?"

Michaela almost flinched in disappointment. Because those were the exact goals she had. Ugh, to agree with this man she didn't want to agree with.

"Same."

"Great," he eased back into his seat. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

Michaela noticed a spark in his brown eyes. There was confidence, but maybe not as bold as she assumed, which pissed her off.

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

"I just," Michaela clutched the glass in front of her. "I don't understand why we're talking outside of the classroom, _Connor Walsh_." Immediately, she glanced at him, to see what he'd do.

Playfully biting his lip, he nodded. "I see you have me all figured out, huh?"

"I had some downtime and I checked," Michaela answered, lifting her eyebrows smugly. "Surprise."

With a shrug, he confirmed. "It's all good. I like to give elements of surprise to everyone I meet. I don't like being transparent on the first day."

"So, Connor, tell me why we're here."

"You intrigue me. Something about you. I don't care for wimps and you're definitely not one. I want to get to know you," he announced.

His opening argument pissed her off; there was no way this was the truth.

"I'm still skeptical about your intentions."

"Do I intimidate you?"

"On the contrary, I don't get intimidated," Michaela coldly responded.

Their drinks arrived - his amber-colored with her clear glass. Connor reached for his and took a hearty sip. Michaela just observed.

"Are you single?"

"I wouldn't be talking to you if I weren't," Connor shot a glance at her. "I'm a faithful man. You?"

Michaela lowered her gaze. "I just broke off my engagement."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's whatever."

It wasn't whatever; Aiden had become her life. But the distance. The secrets. It tore them apart. But he didn't have to know that. Memories flooded and it almost overwhelmed her.

"What the hell," she groaned. Waving down the server, she politely asked for a martini.

"That's the spirit. Loosen up. It's only the first week of the semester. You'll probably need more of those as the weeks go on."

They sat in silence - both staying entertainment by their phones - until her martini arrived.

"That's a very clean martini."

Michaela watched his eyebrows rise with amusement plastered on his face.

"Why? Do you have a problem with my order?"

"Not at all. Just observing. You know what you want, Michaela."

The last syllable of her name ran off his tongue, ever so smoothly, but ended in a tart bite, which sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes followed his lips, carefully moving about in shapes. _Damn it_, she thought. I_ can't let him get to me like this_.

"Who in the hell do you think you are?"


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm me and you're you. And I think we'll have a great semester."

His glass was raised in a snarky toast. Her lip curled - again - before taking a small sip. What did any of this mean?

Confusion was lingering in her brain as the screen on her phone brightened. It was a classmate, Tyler, or someone she made a connection with during Orientation. She answered, not even taking the time to excuse herself.

"Hello? Really? Are you kidding me? Oh, ok. Thanks."

Connor's eyebrows furrowed as he watched Michaela disconnect the call. "What? Who was that?"

"A classmate. Professor Keating wants us meet in court tomorrow at 9am, to witness a hearing. But….I can't be there. I have Torts at 9 and then another class following. I won't make it from campus to the courthouse in time."

Smirking at the anxious tone in her voice, Connor asked, "You think she'll accept that? The most revered professor and attorney in the city? Sounds like an excuse to me, Michaela."

Was that a threat? Did he think she was stepping away to back down from a golden learning opportunity?

"What?"

"You heard me," Connor leaned in, with his intent to make her see his brown eyes. "Ex-cu-ses. You're going to take this moment and shy from it because of these prior engagements. Good work."

"I beg you pardon! I don't think so," Michaela glared, lifting her hands. "And shameful of you for even thinking that. What do you think she'll have us do?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, tipping back the remainder of his drink. "But I've heard she's brutal and doesn't suffer fools. I plan to be at every hearing, trial, meeting, whatever. I'm not about to lose on account of a Torts class."

Michaela's eyes widened as she reached for her drink. Taking a swift gulp of the martini, she had to think quickly. Hearing Connor Walsh deftly explain his path to success, made her want to pursue this challenge. She wouldn't let him take any accolades from her.

"Oh, no. I'll find a way to get there tomorrow. I'm all in. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Anything?"

"Yeah."

Connor linked his fingers together as he incredulously laughed, "Really?"

Not missing a beat, she answered once more.

"Anything."

"Oh? How so," he vocally pondered, tracing the brim of the glass with his finger.

Michaela, taken aback by Connor's sly interrogation, blankly answered: "I'll make an excuse. Leave five minutes before class starts. Talk to the professor or something. I'm persuasive, thank you very much."

"Oh," Connor answered, a bit disappointed by the extent of her cunning game plan.

"Well then. I cannot deny your intelligence and sharp wit. It's sexy. Nothing gets me going like a woman who knows what she wants and how she wants it."

Her palms, clammy to the touch, and her breathing hitched with every sharp glance from the brunette across from her. The light touched his face wonderfully. Now was not the time to fall for silver-tongued fellow; she wasn't going to give him the pleasure of seeing her hardcore facade crack under pressure. Connor smirked again as worry crossed her smooth face.

"Whatever. This conversation is over. I have to leave."

As he watched Michaela scoot away from the table, Connor pulled out his wallet, slapped two bills onto the table, and stood. "Okay, let me walk you to your car."

"Oh no, I'm good," Michaela rebutted. "I don't need a chaperone and I certainly don't trust you."

Connor made a dash to block her path at the door, once again. "Wait. I would be a horrible suitor, if I did not escort you to your car. Have you seen this neighborhood? Anything could happen if you're by yourself."

With a huff, she turned on her Tory Burch-worn heel. It pained her to admit that he was right. This area was not ideal; hell, if she could scoop Middleton up and place it somewhere else, anywhere else, she would. Not the best neighborhood in Philadelphia, but the best school for her right now.

Her blood pressure rising with each footstep taking her to the street where her car was parked. Michaela was still shocked and mad at herself letting this douchebag of a classmate be seen with her. The gesture was fine, but it was he would suggested it. That wasn't a good look. Even at 9PM.

"Hurry up, will you? I have to get home."

"Fine," he replied, quickening his pace. "As you wish."


	5. Chapter 5

He kept looking at his phone. It was 8:57 and she was not there. Not that he truly cared of her whereabouts. The longer she was absent, the better for him. He just wanted some ammo to dangle over her head. Anything to make her look like a clown in front of the Professor. He wanted the top spot; he needed to be the first person to be called that upcoming day.

Connor shot a haughty smile to his other classmate, Asher Millstone, who was also a high achiever. The son of a retired judge, who probably kissed ass to get into Middleton, but every bit of a stooge. He didn't seem legitimate; one less competitor. The others in his class were dopes as well; he had this in the bag.

The trial was honestly, boring at best. Droll tones and statements repeated. Questioning, finger pointing, fact-sharing. Just not exciting enough. Connor lazily wrote notes, some highlights to ponder. But still no Michaela. Who was he going to taunt for the rest of the morning? Maybe she didn't take this as seriously.

Damn shame.

The doors of the courtroom swung open. A sudden rush of clicking heels prompted everyone to turn and see what offender had entered.

It was her. At 9:42.

Connor's jaw slowly dropped, in equal shock and amusement, then rolled his eyes. Not as smooth as she thought she had claimed. He watched her cross to Professor Keating. exchanging a short dialogue. Keating asked the judge for a moment, then received counsel from her assistants. As if she had done nothing wrong, Michaela sauntered to the row in front of him.

"Apologizing to the Professor for your faux pas?"

"No," she smirked. "Just helping."

Before Connor was able to give a smartass comment, Annalise surprised the court with new information regarding the witness' eyesight. It cracked a dent in the prosecution's case. It was very impressive...if she wasn't the one to give the news.

Not wanting to hear any of it, Connor leaned in to harshly whisper in her ear. "Bullshit. How did you find that out? I just saw you last night."

Michaela answered with a sly grin, in a sweet-as-syrup voice. "Maybe you should pay better attention to our lectures, then trying to one-up me. You might learn something."

Connor's lip snarled, now viewing the back of her head, as he adjusted his posture in the somewhat uncomfortable pew. She was really trying to egg him on. Make him look foolish.

"Dude. You went out with her?" Asher nudged him in the arm; he was an oversize boy, always looking for ways to hear gossip or get it in.

"Shut up," Connor retaliated.

He zoned her out as he attempted to focus on the remainder minutes of the hearing. It was hard. She low-key embarrassed him; everyone knew he was the guy to beat. She was making strides towards his unofficial title.

"I must say, that was gutsy research skills, Miss Pratt," Annalise commended, moving through the crowd with power. The other students were surrounded the Professor, with baited breath, longing for any new words of wisdom, directions, or anything. "We wouldn't have been able to make a breakthrough."

"You did advise us to find ways to discredit the witness." Michaela sweetly smiled, casually flipping her long dark hair. Meanwhile, Connor shifted his eyes; the ass-kissing banter was becoming too much.

"So that means I get the trophy?"

"Not yet," Annalise nodded with an equally sweet smile. "There is still more to go. See you all at five, at my house."

Connor and Michaela locked eyes; both giving the other disapproving glances. There would be no lulls between now and the end of the trial. Someone had to win. At any cost.

They had to beat each other at the same game.


End file.
